


Mortal Coils

by orphan_account



Category: Batman (Comics), 幽☆遊☆白書 | YuYu Hakusho: Ghost Files
Genre: M/M, Post-Series, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 14:30:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7896268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gotham's homeless population has been disappearing and their strange monster population is on the rise. The bat family isn't sure what's going on until answers come in the form of a very human looking and very injured fox demon. But Kurama has secrets of his own, and a past he can't quite seem to escape. Can the humans and demons put aside their differences long enough to save Gotham, Kurama, and the world? Probably not, but won't it be fun to see them try?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mortal Coils

**Author's Note:**

> This is where I'll put notes. Don't really have any for this chapter. No batfam, but the next chapter has Jason and Tim to make up for it! Woot!

They were held in what Kurama thought must have been a shipping container of some sort, since the walls were riveted and made of iron. He could not tell the exact dimensions, he only knew that he-and about 50 other demons of varying races and sizes, had been in here for…

 

Well, it was hard to tell how long actually. At least a week, Kurama thought.

 

Whoever was keeping them there knew at least a little about demons, though their captors all smelled human to Kurama. They knew enough to keep the demons heavily warded, so that they were about as strong as human children. Even with the wards, the men who had been hired to stand guard were heavily armed with cattle prods if the demons got too restless and some kind of gun Kurama had never bothered learning the name of. He had seen one of them make threatening gestures with his when a soul-sucking oni had grumbled about the food.

 

Ah yes, the food. What kind of place gave humans access to a steady supply of human flesh to feed to a group of demons so large? Because they had managed it. Once a day, a wheelbarrow of meat was brought it, raw and stinking. And the humans expected them to _eat_ it? Kurama wondered where these humans had gotten their information from, to know that when summoning demons it was handy to have a supply of wards near by, but didn’t know that most of the demons they were keeping prisoner didn’t eat human flesh.

 

If Hiei were here he might have commented of how stupid they were for being so blind to their prejudice to believe that all demons were human eaters, how foolish the fox was for getting himself in this situation. Kurama’s hands gripped the hem of his pants at the thought. He didn’t want to think about Hiei right now. After all, he might never see-

 

Kurama forced himself to breathe. He wasn’t going to think about that now.

 

Kurama sighed. He wanted to stand up, stretch his legs. He wanted sunlight, and fresh water and _food_ and to be out of this stinking cage.

 

Kurama examined the ward that was wrapped around his left arm, not unlike a bandage. But if he removed it, all he would see is unblemished skin. Still, it was powerful. He tentatively touched the ward and pulled. If it were a normal wrapping, Kurama could have easily torn it off, but the cloth didn’t give under his fingers, as if it were made of stronger stuff.

 

“Hey!” Some low-class demon with three clawed fingers and thick purple skin reached towards Kurama. Kurama batted the hand away as if he was a cat and it was his toy.

 

“Touchy,” the demon said, “I just wanted to know if you knew what they were doing with the demons they take out of here.”

 

“I assure you, they haven’t divulged any of their secrets to me.”

 

“I’d figured they’d talk to you, since you smell so human.”

 

Kurama narrowed in eyes. He must be dealing with the dumbest creature in the three worlds. “If I were working with them, why would I be here, with the rest of you? And if I were, why would I tell you what they’re doing with the demons they take?”

 

It was a valid concern. Every day, the humans would take a demon or two, always heavily warded, always cuffed and with a cattle prod or gun at the demon’s back, and march them out of the container and to Inari knows where.

 

‘Probably to their death, the poor bastards,’ Kurama thought. But then, after the first couple of days he was there, some of the demons started coming back. Asking questions did no good. The demons that returned refused to talk, or couldn’t talk. Other than himself, Kurama doubted any of the demons spoke English, and the humans certainly didn’t speak Makai. And other than a few barked commands and a couple of threatening gestures, their human captors never spoke to them. Probably ordered not too, Kurama thought.

 

Why would they have answered anyways?

 

“How did you get captured?” the demon persisted in his inane questions.

 

Kurama did not answer. He rolled his other side and this time did bring his arms around, hugging himself and allowing the gesture of comfort. His body was tense, his back turned to the demon which, if they had been unwarded and in the Makai, would be a stupid thing for Kurama to do. But even with his claws, the purple skinned demon would do nothing to Kurama. Not unless he wanted a cattle-prod to the neck when the humans came in to see what the commotion is about.

 

“It’s just that, you have to be the strongest demon here.”

 

Of course, Kurama had noticed that the first day. Even warded he could sense the demon energy of those around him, and none came close to the power the former thief had.

 

Kurama relented. Perhaps it was because he was tired, perhaps it was because he was starving and nauseous after a week of eating nothing and the wretched smell of the human flesh they kept bringing in there, but Kurama found himself answering truthfully, even. If Hiei were there he would have scoffed at the idea of Youko Kurama bothering to answer.

 

_But we aren’t thinking about him._

“I was captured the same way all of you did. I was summoned.”

 

“Makes you wonder what kind of summoning spell they must have to nab a kitsune and an oni,” the purple skinned demon said.

 

“It does,” Kurama closed his eyes. “It certainly does.

 

“Hey! Quiet in there!” Two of the human guards had come back in. He tensed as they made their ways towards him, prods gripped loosely in their right hands, stances like they were ready for a fight.             

 

“Guess you’re about to find out what they do,” the purple skinned demon said. And indeed, it looked like that was the case. The humans stopped in front of him. If Kurama wasn’t certain that standing up wouldn’t reward him with a nasty shock and make him look even weaker, he would have stood up and faced the humans. As it were, he fixed them with a look that made it clear what he thought of them. Bide his time. This might be the only time he had to escape.

 

“Shut up!” one of the humans berated the purple skinned demon. The demon said nothing. It couldn’t understand the human, but the tone was enough to get his point across. For the first time since being summoned, Kurama was in a position to get a good look at the guards that were keeping them in line.

 

One was blonde, the other had light brown hair. Both kept their hair short, their faces were clean shaven. Both were taller than the average Japanese person, though shorter than Kuwabara. Kurama was cursing himself for not being more interested in the worlds governments. He could tell from the way they stood that they were trained fighters, possibly warriors, but trained to do _what_?

 

Unlike Yusuke, and even Hiei, he had never had a formal teacher and he hadn’t stayed with his original parents long enough to learn anything other than a few basic illusions and tricks with plants. Everything, from his skills as a thief, to his martial art, to his uncanny ability to manipulate and strategize, had been learned by trial and error. So the men standing in front of him could be former military, or spiritually aware and trained by someone like Genkai. Kurama, who was (as Hiei might say) entirely too perceptive most of the time, could not learn that from them.

 

“You know,” the blonde one said in a slow drawl, “this one’s supposed to be the most powerful one of the lot.”

 

They were talking about _him._ The brunette raised an eyebrow at his partner’s comment. “Oh yeah? How do you figure?”

 

“Well, the more human they look, the more powerful they’re supposed to be, right? Compare this one to all those other ugly bastards. You’re the prettiest one here, ain’t you sweetheart?” the blonde man finished, and winked.

 

Kurama didn’t bother hiding his grimace. He expected some sort of comment about his ability to understand them in English, but there was no such question. To his dismay, the blonde man continued talking as if Kurama wasn’t there. He glared up at him.

 

“Oh, now there’s a look! Going to rip out my throat? Going to grow fangs and bite it out? But you can’t, can you?” The blonde man spoke as if Kurama was a child. “You’re as docile as a kitty aren’t you? Sure you are. Sure you are.”

 

To Kurama’s shock, the blonde man reached a hand out and _pet his hair._ Kurama visibly flinched away, and he hated it, hated how submissive he was being, how he had to act. The container was silent; all of the other demons were now watching them.

 

Kurama growled, a low sound at the back of his throat. The blonde man looked amused, than bent down so that he was level with Kurama. Kurama could see the startling blue of his eyes, as bright as his own green.

 

With that amused grin on his face, the blonde man dragged Kurama up by his arm and slammed him face first into the wall. Bringing his other arm down, the man cuffed him. One hand in Kurama’s hair, the other pinning his arms, he drew Kurama’s head back and slammed it against the shipping container wall again. Kurama hissed as he tasted blood.

 

“Yes sir,” the blonde man said to his friend as he picked up Kurama in a fireman’s carry and made his way back to entrance. “No problem. No problem at all…”

 

It was night when they went outside. Kurama saw that he was correct about being near a dock. Outside he could smell the ocean nearby. The sky wasn’t clear which was the cause of some kind of pollution, light or otherwise, as Kurama could not get a good view of the stars. So, in a city, near the ocean, but where? And how had these humans managed to keep this operation under raps? No answers were forthcoming. In his position it was hard to take a deep breath, but Kurama tried when they got outside. The man dropped him unceremoniously onto the ground. There were two other men outside, dressed in the same black uniform as the blonde man and his companion, with batons and cattle prods identical to theirs. From his position on the ground, hand-cuffed and head bleeding, Kurama saw them start to close in.

 

“…But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t rough him up a little bit just in case.”

 

Kurama tooled his face to remain impassive as the first guard raised his billy club. He closed his eyes. He would not cry out, or give any satisfaction of the sort. As the truncheon was brought down on his ribs, he turned his thoughts to how wonderful it would be to hear these humans beg for mercy when he escaped.

 

            


End file.
